


My Kingdom Come

by Whatabeautifulday23



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9004636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatabeautifulday23/pseuds/Whatabeautifulday23
Summary: Maka, princess of Baltica, a thriving nation by the sea, has had everything taken from her. Her parents are dead. Her kingdom has been stolen from her by one-time suitor, Prince Asura Kishin of Shizumi. With famed piano player Soul "Eater" Evans by her side, Maka makes her way to the town Black Fort, where rumors whisper an assassin with hatred for the Kishin family can help her. She will do anything to reclaim what is rightfully hers - and may find love beckoning for her. (Game of Thrones-esque story. There will be violence, but I will leave a warning beforehand).





	1. Chapter 1

             With a desperate, quiet pant, Maka locked eyes with her adversary, fighting the urge to flick her eyes to the dully glinting sword stretching out from his hand. Her mentor had told her that a sword would give away nothing; it was the _eyes_ that bled out the next move.

            Then, he had attacked her.

            She knew how he would move when she saw his eyes flicker to the left. With her own sword swinging up to meet his, a mighty CLASH emanated through the training courtyard as Maka and her mentor thrust and parried, feigned and stabbed. They weren’t the only ones. Scores of other men trained together, although most were pretending to not be watching her.

            How could they avoid watching their princess sweating it out in the heat with them?

            Maka lunged forward, pushing her body into the thrust, as she locked the pommel of her sword with her mentor’s, and twisted.

            The courtyard went quiet briefly as Taquin’s sword clanged against the cobblestone. Then the sounds of other fights continued after a momentary silence.

            Maka grinned, pure delight lighting up her eyes as pride surged through her chest. Her eyes met Taquin’s, only to see her own pride mirrored in his cerulean eyes. “Look at you,” he rumbled. “I taught you how to do that only two weeks ago. What a fine warrior you’ll be.”

            Maka puffed out her chest, feeling ridiculously pleased with herself. It wasn’t often that Taquin praised her. In fact, it was as rare as a diamond found in a stream bed. And this was the first time she had managed to pull off that move in an actual spar. Finally, her swordsmanship was improving.

            Reality crashed around her as a messenger approached from the corridor leading into the castle. Pretending she hadn’t yet seen him, Maka lifted her head up to the sun, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth against her face, contrasting with the cool sweat trickling down her back. It was nice outside. The sky was a deep, welcoming blue, not a cloud in sight. The sounds of other ensuing battles rang out around her – metal screeching against metal, low voices cursing and groaning in frustration. It was like music to her ears.

            “Princess Maka.”

            Maka turned the face the messenger, watching as he bowed lowly before abruptly straightening. “My apologies, princess, but your father requests your presence in the throne room.” The messenger’s eyes dragged across her sweat-slick, armored form. She watched the distaste briefly flicker in his eyes before being tamped down. “He suggested changing first.”

            Fine. With a sigh, Maka dipped her head down in dismissal. It had been hard for Maka to convince her Papa to let her learn to fight. Many others within the castle didn’t approve. But Maka knew how to get her Papa how to do what she wanted. What she wanted, she went after, with a steely determination that no one could match.

            And if she had to play the games he occasionally dictated she join, so be it.

            Taquin gave her an encouraging smile. “Go on then, lass. We’ll pick it up again tomorrow. Might teach ya something new. I know you’ve been raring to get back at that scythe again.”

            Maka grinned at that. Scythe training had indeed been her favorite. “Thank you, Taquin. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            With that, she turned and went to the shed at the edge of the courtyard. The squat, gray building was filled with swords, daggers, and all other weapons used for training purposes. She returned her sword to its rightful place, and headed back outside to find her lady-in-waiting already there.

            “Let’s be going then, my lady,” Bella murmured, peeking out of the corner of her eye at a pair of particularly handsome men, shirtless, gleaming in the sun as their swords clashed. Bella smiled as Maka started the way back to her room, and trailed slightly behind her.

            Dressed in a rose pink evening gown, with her golden curls tumbling down her back, Bella was the picture of elegance and grace. It was probably broiling underneath that gown, but Maka had noticed Bella always dressed up a little more on training days. She wondered briefly who the brown-eyed beauty was trying to attract.

            Maka, by contrast, felt distinctly outshined next to her best friend and lady-in-waiting. While Bella’s hair glowed like the sun itself, Maka’s was pale, ash-like, although not quite gray. Bella was shapely, thin and graceful where it suited her, curved and bountiful in places men liked to look. The only place Maka felt like she sufficiently came to par with Bella was her eyes. They gleamed like emeralds, her Papa said. She didn’t disagree.

            Not that she was really jealous of Bella’s looks; they had been born into completely different lives. Maka wouldn’t tarnish a strong friendship with green thoughts.

            In the cool shade within the castle walls, Maka locked arms with her friend as they trailed through the halls to Maka’s personal room. “Do you know what this is about?” Maka asked as they walked past the closed doors to the throne room.

            Bella shook her head. “I’ve no idea. I’m suspecting it has something to do with your engagement.”

            Maka fought back a groan.

            Her “engagement” was a difficult subject. Two years ago, since she turned fifteen, her Papa had broached the subject of marriage often. He had invited suitors to the castle from Shizumi, from Dains, even from countries across the Purple Sea. Many were interested in marrying the princess of Baltica; after all, Baltica was a major trading country, with wares coming in from all over the Purple Sea, and was a major trading partner with Dains. The capital, Niv, was strategically placed in King’s Cove, an inlet from the Purple Sea, and a popular trading hub. Even if the princess wasn’t as pretty or as…”princess-y” (read: she learned how to use weapons instead of how to sing or embroider) as others, she was valuable.

            Her Papa had so far managed to chase away all but two of the suitors he had originally invited to Niv.

            As Maka made her way into her room, she paused long enough to glance about it. Her room was her favorite place in the palace, second only to the library.

            The walls were sea-blue, trimmed with gold. A soft, golden-hued rug padded the floor, and led to the massive, light blue, golden-canopied bed, directly in the center of the room. Near a fireplace that was currently empty, a simple, high-backed chair sat, perfect for reading.

            As Bella prepared a quick bath and organized her clothes, Maka strode up to the large, open windows across the room. They opened up to the Purple Sea, and a cushioned bench ran along the entire length of the windows. It was a favorite place for Maka to read, more so than the fireside. Here, she was content to sit and think and read, all while a soft sea breeze filtered in.

            Despite the good weather, the Purple Sea was choppy, frothing with whitecaps. The deep, dark blue (almost purple, for which it had been named) water seemed particularly menacing today. Maka frowned. It wasn’t often that the sea roiled like this. Niv was blessed with mostly mild weather all year.

            “My lady, your bath is ready.”

            Maka turned her back on the agitated sea and made her way into her bathroom. Really, her bathtub was practically a small pool – it was wide and long, and deep enough in certain areas that Maka could sink completely under the water.

            She bathed quickly, and dried, and Bella dressed her up in a dark green dress that flowed gently from her waist to the floor. She then tied up Maka’s hair into two pigtails, and placed a silver circlet on her brow. Thus dressed, Maka and Bella made their way to the throne room. Even though Maka really wanted to stay and curl up on that bench by the windows and read, she knew she would not be able to ignore the king’s summoning.

            On her way there, Maka thought of her two suitors. Both were from the neighboring kingdoms.

            From Dains, there was Kid Death, son of the wealthy merchant-lord that ruled the trading city Merys. Lord Death had sent his son here recently, although talk of a betrothal had been in the works for months. The prince of Dains was already married, but a match with Lord Kid was worthwhile too. It would further strengthen the bond between Merys and Niv, and the two countries in general.

            Maka liked Kid well enough. He was a little odd, with strange, practically yellow eyes, and three white stripes on the right side of his ink-black hair, but none on the left. He had a habit of calling Merys “Death City” for whatever reason. But strange was good. Strange was interesting. And better than her other suitor, Prince Asura Kishin of Shizumi.

            Whenever Maka thought about Prince Asura, her throat tightened and her stomach churned. She was mildly afraid of him, not that she would ever publicly show or express that. He was creepy. He wore layers and layers of clothing, even out in the hot Baltica sun, and had multiple white scarves wrapped around most of his face. What she could see of his face, she didn’t like. His eyes were red – red as the blood pumping through her own veins. And, in the middle of his forehead, he had a strange tattoo: another red, sickening eye staring at her.

            Relations between Baltica and Shizumi had been strained for decades now, which was why Papa had entertained this betrothal idea for so long. Shizumi was a cruel, angry country; its people were taxed basically to starvation, and the Kishin line was known for their brutal treatment of their citizens. Executions were regular there, and there were no jails – all crime-doers lost a limb, or their life, depending on the severity of their crime.

            Maka had heard cases of starving children losing hands for trying to feed themselves.

            And she would never, ever marry a monster that allowed that. Marriage between her and Prince Asura would mean that their countries would merge into one. And she knew, deep down, that she would become nothing more than the toy on his arm, subjected to his every whim; he would rule completely, and Baltica would lose its sparkle. _Maka_ would lose her sparkle. Women especially were treated brutally over in that barbaric country.

            She would not let that happen to herself. Or her country.

            Maka paused outside of the grand, oak doors that led into the throne room. The guards outside bowed deeply, then, together, opened a door each. One called in “Princess Maka Albarn of Baltica.”

            As Maka walked in, with Bella trailing behind her, she discovered she had interrupted a conversation between her papa and her two suitors.

            Her papa sat straight-backed upon the elegantly carved, wooden throne. Hate suddenly roared in her veins as complete and utter disgust momentarily flashed across her face, and it took all she had to not leap up and smack his face. She _despised_ her father. She would never forgive him for what he did to her mama. Never.

            Spirit Albarn smiled cooingly at his approaching daughter, even as her green eyes never met his own blue ones. He trailed his hand through his red hair, and Maka rolled her eyes, curtsied, and turned her attention to the other two men waiting in the throne room.

            “My prince, my lord, it is an honor to see you both again.” Maka demurely curtsied and plastered on a pretty smile. “And my king, as always.” A bit of acid dripped into her tone – though that was to be expected. What the king had done had shocked and disgusted the nation. Some of the more pious would never forgive him. Especially since the queen’s death.

            Prince Asura and Lord Kid both bowed in response. Maka kept her smile firmly in place even as fear roiled about in her gut. She could sense Asura’s eyes on her, on every inch of skin exposed by her gown. She suppressed a shudder as her papa dismissed the guards within the room, and her lady-in-waiting. Bella squeezed Maka’s arm, and then was gone.

            “I have gathered you all here today to announce that I have decided upon the matter of my darling daughter’s hand.” Spirit smiled fondly down at his daughter, who stared blandly at the spot above his head.

            Inside, she was shaking. This time, she felt _everyone’s_ eyes on her.

            _Please not Asura. Don’t damn me further, Papa, please._

            “Lord Kid Death. I have chosen you to take my daughter’s hand in marriage. You have my blessing.”

            Never had Maka been so happy to hear the king speak. She turned to face Kid with a small, shy smile that matched his own. “I look forward to our many happy years together, Lord Death.”

            Kid bowed formally. “As do I, Princess,” he murmured softly.

            “You have…thought this through, then, Your Majesty?” Prince Asura’s high voice cut through the throne room, and Maka turned slightly on her heels to face him. He had eyes only for her papa, though…even as she could have sworn she felt that the eye tattooed on his forehead was watching her.

            “I have, Prince Asura,” the king leaned forward, clasping his fingers together, “I have decided that Lord Death will benefit Baltica, and my darling daughter, more.”

            There was a tense silence that stretched through the throne room. Asura broke it. “I see. I trust that His Majesty was truly wise; although…Shizumi never forgets.” Asura bowed lowly, even though the other three in the room recognized the threat for what it was.

            _Fine then,_ thought Maka. _We don’t need anything from you._ You _need_ us.

            Spirit Albarn did not feel threatened. “Of course, Prince Asura, you may stay here in Baltica as long as you wish. I must insist that you stay for the betrothal celebration, though. A week from today, we will hold a feast here to celebrate.”

            Asura grinned, although Maka could barely tell from under the scarves. “I will be here for it, then,” he promised, turned on his heel, and abruptly left the room. The grand oak doors slammed shut behind him with a menacing echo. Maka didn’t really like the idea of the prince wandering through her home, or that he was sticking around for another week.

            Spirit turned to face his daughter and Kid. “And you.” Spirit’s expression suddenly grew menacing, and he pointed a shaking finger at Kid. “If you _ever_ hurt my daughter, my wrath will fall upon you, and I promise you, you will regret ever touching her.”

            Kid blinked, not used to this side of the king. “I-I would never hurt her, Your Majesty.”

            Maka took his hand before Spirit could say anything else that would embarrass her and Baltica as a whole. “Come, my lord. We can tour the gardens together.” There. _Take that, Papa_.

            Grasping Kid’s hand, Maka led him out of the throne room, even as Spirit called shrilly after them, “Bye, my darling daughter! I can’t wait to see you for supper!”

            Maka did not say a word until she had led Kid outside into the lush, green palace gardens, filled with flowers and other beautiful sights. The palace gardeners were experts in their designing and care for the garden. Maka sat down on a bench near a small pond filled with koi fish and lily pads. In front of them rose the castle

            “Sometimes I do believe he’s rather bipolar,” Maka finally said, just to ease the tension. Kid let out a startled laugh, shaking his head. And just like that, the tension between them broke.

            “So you’re learning to wield a sword.” Kid commented, taking the smart path away from discussing Maka’s papa. “I saw you out in the courtyard today before the king called me in.”

            Maka nodded her head. “My mama…she was instructed on how to defend herself when she married Papa.” Maka’s voice grew soft, and sad. “He didn’t want me to learn, but I want to be like her. Strong, tough. Able to defend myself.”

            That hadn’t stopped Kami Albarn from being murdered, though. She knew Kid was thinking that. After all, if Kami had been able to defend herself, she probably wouldn’t have been assassinated last spring.

            “My condolences on the loss of your mother,” Kid finally said, his eyes on the castle in front of them. “I heard many great things about the queen. She was a lovely lady. My father knew her personally, though I’m not sure how.” Kid turned slightly to glance at Maka, a frown on his lips. “And I understand why you would want to be like her. I strive to be like my mother every day.”

            That’s right. Kid’s mother had died giving birth to him. “My condolences, as well. But, forgive me; curiosity is my besetting sin,” she wouldn’t mention her temper _quite_ yet, “how do you strive to be like her? You see me with my training; how are you like your own mother?”

            Kid was quiet for a moment, this time studying the pretty, blue and pink flowers in front of the bench. “My mother was the ruler of Merys until she married my father. She was an excellent merchant, and an excellent ruler. I strive to be like her in that way. And, of course, to be happy – my father told me she was always smiling.”

            “That is a good way to be like her,” murmured Maka, patting Kid’s hand. _This could be easy_ , she thought. They could, at the very least, be good friends. Maybe someday she would even fall in love with Kid Death, although she didn’t really believe in love herself. Her parents’ destroyed marriage had taught ruined the notion of “true love” for her; even so, she got the feeling that she and Kid could be happy together, in the future.

            Suddenly, she noticed his frown. And then he gasped, and with a shaking hand, pointed at a turret along the castle roof. “T-that turret! There is no matching one! YOUR HOME IS ASYMMETRCAL!” Kid cried, his lips twisting in a sneer of disgust, and Maka jumped, staring dumbfounded at the lord’s son.

            “I…Lord Kid?”

            “ _How_ can I stay here and marry you when you live in this _atrocious,_ piece of _garbage_ castle?! This won’t do! This won’t do at all!” Weeping, Kid fell down into the grass, curling in on himself. He shuddered as he looked up at the offending turret once more. “No! I can’t stand it! I have to get away from it!”

            And with that, Lord Kid Death, unannounced fiancé of the princess of Baltica, bolted inside. Maka watched after him as he stumbled inside.

            “Why is it that I am the most normal person here?” Maka muttered to herself, shaking her head. Then she got up and went to her room to read.


	2. Chapter 2

            Soul Evans drooled face-down into his bed. It was close to one in the afternoon, and he had yet to get up. That was normal. He was surprised Seamus hadn’t yet burst into his room and broken his doze. But that would incur his grandmother’s wrath, too, so no one would really win in that scenario.

            Just as thoughts of waking up had finally sifted to the background of his mind, and he was well and truly falling asleep, Soul’s bedroom door creaked open. “Soul? You need to look at this.”

            Soul groaned and rolled onto his back. “Dammit, Wes, I’m tryna snooze.” Grumbling, Soul sat up and blearily cracked open his crimson eyes. They landed on the older Evans brother, who was loitering in the doorway, a crisp, cream-colored envelope tucked into his hand.

            “You’ve been ‘snoozing’ all day. You’ve got something here.” Wes picked his way over Soul’s floor, stepping over the sheet music and clothing that littered it. “And you _really_ have got to start cleaning up in here.”

            Soul snarled, but there was no real menace in it. There never was; not with Wes. “Whatever.”

            Wes gingerly handed Soul the envelope, as if it was something precious. Soul frowned and squinted down at it.

            _Soul Evans_ , the back stated in emerald ink. There was no return address. Frowning, Soul tore open the front of the envelope, ignoring Wes’s wince, and pulled out the thick, cream-colored paper inside.

            _His Majesty, King Spirit Albarn III has requested your presence at the castle during the feast celebrating Princess Maka Albarn’s engagement to Kid Death, son of Lord Death of Merys. Your playing time will be from 7:00PM to 8:00PM, after the feast. Please have your own music._

            Soul couldn’t really process what was going on. They wanted _him_ to play at the feast?! Not Wes?!

            Soul numbly handed the invitation – no, _demand_ – to Wes. Wes read it quickly, and broke into a wide grin as he looked down at his younger brother. “Soul! Soul this is great! _Wow…_ oh, Grandmother will be thrilled! Mother too!”

            Soul distinctly noticed that Wes didn’t mention their father’s name.

            “What does that bastard want _me_ there for?” Soul whispered in horror, staring past Wes to the doorway. Sickness and shame started to fill him at the thought of going into the god-forsaken castle. He never wanted to go into that castle, not after how Seamus – his _father_ – had disgraced them all. What would his mom think about him going into the castle?

            She would want him to go. And he supposed he would have to. But he didn’t like it, and dreaded the thought.

            “He wants you there because you’re a talented pianist.” Wes pointed out, and Soul snorted. Surely that wasn’t it. This was obviously some elaborate plan to bring back the pain of betrayal and embarrassment from his father’s mistake. Otherwise they would have invited _Wes._

            “Have…you been invited?”

            Wes smiled kindly, without a hint of disappointment. “No. I have another event that night.”

            “How the fuck did they not invite you?”

            Wes winced at the lack of eloquence, but didn’t say anything about it. It wouldn’t help anyway, and he knew that. “Well. I don’t know why I wasn’t requested to attend, but I _do_ know that my brother is an incredibly talented pianist.” Wes said as he stood up and stretched. Soul scoffed and pressed his face harder into the pillow. “And I know you won’t disappoint.”

            Soul turned his back towards the door as Wes left, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling growing in his gut. He couldn’t help but feel like playing at the engagement ball was a bad idea. He’d either mess up, throw the family name even _more_ down the gutter, or it would be some kind of trick.

            Soul wasn’t sure what he preferred at this point.

 

~

            The night of the engagement ball came more quickly than Soul had expected, but luckily he had some pieces prepared. He wasn’t sure that the royal snobs would notice if he played something twice, but Soul was willing to take the risk.

            Soul had already told his parents about the event. His mom, always supporting him, had given him a strained smile and patted his hand, murmuring ‘congratulations’ softly to her youngest son. His father had stalked off in silence, which is what Soul had expected him to do. And his grandmother…well.

            “Oh, I knew Seamus couldn’t kill off our family entirely!” she had crowed, beyond pleased with Soul. Soul winced as she squeezed him in a tight hug. “Your good-for-nothing father didn’t ruin us!”

            Seamus hadn’t made an appearance from his bedroom since.

            Soul dressed himself smartly, wearing a black, pin-striped suit with a dark red undershirt and a tie. He left his hair to be its usual mess, because he was _Soul_ , and part of his pianist aesthetic was his hair style.

            He checked himself out in the mirror, adjusted his sleeves, and stepped back. His look was complete. Now, all Soul had to do was leave the house without incident.

            He didn’t expect it to be so hard. His father was waiting for him by the door. Seamus was drunk out of his god damned mind.

            “Look, old man, I don’t want any of your trouble, old man,” Soul snarled quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as Seamus leaned against the door. Seamus snarled back, his lips curling up, his own blue eyes narrowing at his son’s. Soul had gotten his eyes from his mother, yes, but the shark teeth came from Seamus. They were a frightening pair to behold.

            “And why should I let you go to that gods-forsaken castle?” Seamus drawled airily, taking a sip from his glass of red wine. Soul thought it looked disturbingly like blood as he swallowed it down.

            Soul bared his teeth once more, leaning into the wall, posture crooked. “You don’t ‘ _let me_ ’ do anything, Seamus. I take my own gigs.”

            Seamus snorted. “You’re not going to that castle.”

            And Soul exploded.

            He leaped forward, grabbing the lapels of his father’s shirt and pushed him hard against the stone wall. Seamus’s head smacked back against the wall and in his daze, he dropped his wine glass. It shattered, the wine soaking into the blue welcome rug in place.

            Soul didn’t care. He leaned forward, close enough to smell the alcohol on his father’s breath, and said, “It is not my fault you went _whoring around_ with the king. It is not my fault that you got _caught_ , and then the queen left and the king and you and our family and our _mother_ was disgraced. That is on _you._ And you don’t control. Now get out of my sight.” Soul seethed, and shoved his father away from him.

            Soul slammed the front door shut, not looking back to Seamus sink down to his knees on the wine-stained carpet.

            He marched towards the castle, empty-handed save for the invitation, tucked into his jacket pocket. Soul tried to tell himself that he wasn’t his father, that he wasn’t going to ruin his family reputation even more by showing up.

            Baltica was an interesting country in the sense that brothels were outlawed, and rapists were castrated and ostracized, essentially kicked out of society. Thus, Baltica experienced a lot less rapes than its neighboring countries. So, when it was revealed that the king, Spirit Albarn, was cheating on his wife, and that he was _sharing_ this woman with his esteemed harpist, Seamus Evans, it was a huge scandal. Queen Kami Albarn divorced the king and left. Seamus returned home from the castle to a distant wife and a life without work. The people refused to hire Seamus, and Wes and Soul had had to pick up the slack.

            Even now, thinking about it made Soul’s blood boil. He didn’t care about the scandal so much as he cared about the hurt that had borne deep lines onto his mother’s still beautiful face. She never deserved it.

            The scandal had been a deep wound in the Evans family, barely scabbed over. People, already afraid of their unusual facial characteristics, hired even less. Soul’s grandmother, the family matriarch, didn’t help matters, as she constantly bickered with and belittled her disgraced son.

            Then Wes had gained popularity in the court, and Soul had reluctantly followed…

            If anything good would come from tonight, it would be that more people noticed him and hired him out for parties. They were constantly in need of money, and the only way to fix that would be to play at more shows.

            Soul slipped into a castle side entrance after showing the guard his invitation and baring his signature teeth in a razor-edged smile. He sent for another guard, who led Soul to a practice room. Inside it was a beautiful piano, black and glossy and gleaming.

            The guard left and Soul shut the door behind him before sitting down on the bench and messing around with a few chords. He then proceeded to warm up a little, before launching into one of the pieces he planned on playing. Soul had no sheet music. He played from memory.

            While these pieces weren’t his favorites, he did enjoy them decently enough. Instead of getting lost in them, though, he merely flowed through the motions, head bowed. However, he was gone enough that he didn’t notice when the door to his practice room creaked open and someone stepped inside.

            He ended the piece with a flourish, and started when someone began clapping. Soul whirled around, eyes wide, and saw the girl standing by the door, shyly clapping. She was wearing an emerald-green gown, decorated with black lace, tight around her waist before gently flowing to the ground. Her ashen hair was plaited, and a bit of pink on her lips colored her face, though not nearly as much as the green, sparkling eyes that matched her dress did. Soul’s eyes travelled up, and he finally noticed the dainty tiara placed upon her head.

            “I-…Your Highness,” Soul muttered stiffly and bowed, overcome with shock. Of all the people to walk in on him practicing, it was the _princess?_ Of course it had to be the princess.

            She smiled, taking a few steps toward him and the piano. “That was lovely. What is your name?”

            “Soul. Soul Evans.” Soul stammered, and watched as her face tightened in response. Before he could stop himself, he winced in sympathy. _Evans_. The princess would know all about his father for sure.

            The princess curtsied. “Princess Maka Albarn. But please, just call me Maka.” She forced a small smile, and Soul was mildly impressed that she hadn’t run away as soon as he mentioned his last name.

            “Princess- ah, I mean, Your High- shoot, Maka…” God, he was an absolute mess. Soul tried to focus. Yes, she was pretty, but he wasn’t sure if _that_ was why he was a bumbling mess – it was probably because of their shared history. He needed to do what he knew, take this back a step. “Would you like to hear another piece?”

            Maka nodded, and Soul swiftly turned himself on the bench, and launched into one of his favorite pieces. It was dark, quick, haunting and beautiful. It fell and rose, twisted and twined, and with it, Soul felt a part of his spirit lighten. He could always rely on this to pick him back up. Soul fell in with the music, lived it, breathed it, _became_ it. He was almost surprised when he played the last dark, rich note, and it came to a close.

            Soul was panting. Maka sat down on the bench, nearly taking it up completely with her skirts, and smiled. “I didn’t really understand it, but it was beautiful.”

            Soul’s heart skipped a beat. Of course it was beautiful. Of course. You didn’t have to understand the music to recognize that, but every time he heard that compliment, compared with his own father’s complaint of “that’s too dark”, he soared.

            “Thank you, Princess,” he murmured, looking back down at the glossy keys.

            “Maka,” she corrected gently.

            “Whatever,” he grumbled, and then realized he had grumbled “whatever” at the princess of Baltica and straightened abruptly.

            Maka looked both slightly amused and slightly offended, and her lips parted. Then she noticed the clock behind Soul’s shoulder on the wall, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh my! I’ve got to get back out there. I’m supposed to be…oh gods! Goodbye!” With her hands dropping to lift up her skirts, Maka stood up and ran out the door, slamming it behind her.

            Soul blinked at the resounding echo. Slowly, he turned back to the piano, shaking his head. Soul started clanking gently on the keys in an attempt to bring himself back to normalcy. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that encounter with the princess.

            Soul managed to practice a little more, and then a guard appeared to escort him to the dining hall where he would be playing. As he walked into the hall, no one paid him any mind. Nobles talked and laughed with each other as they sat around an enormous table filled to the brim with food. Roast beef, smoked chicken, savory greens, anything and everything. The smells wafted up Soul’s nose and his stomach grumbled in response. This was abuse.

            Soul noticed the princess as he sat down at the grand piano tucked away into a neat little corner. She was seated at the right of her father, the king, his red hair gleaming the same shade of the wine being passed around by servants. Next to the princess was a strange man with black hair and white stripes encircling his head. And the rest were a blur of people, strangers, perhaps some he had played for in the past.

            No one paid him any mind as he played during his designated time. After each piece, there was usually a polite smattering of applause, which was irritating. Soul had expected more attention, especially since he was slaving away over here while they stuffed themselves.

            As Soul finished, the people at the tables moved away towards the dance floor, while the king himself was escorted to his throne. Once he was seated, the crowd bowed down as one.

            “Today is a day to celebrate my darling daughter, Princess Maka,” he smiled lovingly toward his daughter, who appeared stiff and uncomfortable by his attention. Even _he_ could tell that, although Soul was definitely familiar with ‘daddy issues’. “And to really set the celebration off, Princess Maka and her new fiancé, Lord Kid Death of Merys, will be dancing together first.”

            Soul slunk off into the shadows as a band got ready to play, but stayed in the hall. He was mostly hoping he could pick up some scraps of food, but okay, _maybe_ he was a little intrigued to see what would happen next. Soul could count on one hand the times he had been to a royal feast. And that time was one, now.

            He watched as Lord Death-or-whatever offered his hand to the princess, who curtsied and accepted it. They moved fluidly to the dance floor, the band struck up a tune, and they started to dance.

            Soul soon grew bored of watching other people dance, but as he was still hoping for some grub, he didn’t leave. Instead, he watched with a strange sort of interest as a man approached the king and bowed, and then began to talk with him. The man was drenched in layers of clothing, all black, and from where Soul was standing…was his head wrapped in _bandages_?

            Soul didn’t recognize him, but he felt a creepy vibe coming from that man. Creepy enough that he kept his eyes on him as he slowly sidled closer and closer to the unaware king.

            There wasn’t anything Soul could do as the man reached casually into his pocket and, in a lightning-quick motion, drew a knife and stabbed it deep into King Spirit Albarn’s chest.

            The king let out a gurgling gasp and slumped forward onto his throne, red oozing out into his shirt, pooling down it. A guard yelled, and the music crumbled to a halt.

            “PAPA!” Someone screamed, and Soul dully realized through his shock that that someone was Maka, the _princess_. It was dead quiet for a second, pure calm, following Maka’s scream.

            Then the man turned to face the disturbed crowd. “Grab the princess,” he ordered in a high, reedy, bored-sounding voice. Guards melted out of shadows and stormed towards the crowd, intent on catching the new Queen of Baltica.

            And chaos erupted.

            Soul wasn’t sure how he wound up crouching by the entry hall door, but there was nothing he could do, yet again, as slaughter ensued. Guards fought guards, guests screamed, but no one could find the princess.            

            Instead, the princess found _him_.

            Soul looked up as a white hand was shoved into his face, his ears ringing from the clash of steel and screams, and took it. Maka was at the end of the hand. Her face was set, determined, even as tears continuously ran down her cheeks, streaks of black following.

            Numbly, Soul thought, _How fitting. Tears of black_.

            “We’re getting out of here. Follow me.”

            She held tightly to his hand and led him down a series of passages his baffled mind would never remember. Soul realized, at some point, that they were not in the main halls, and instead were in some kind of secret passageways. This was evident in the fact that no torches were lit.

            “Wait…where are we going?” Soul stopped dead in his tracks, tugging his hand from hers. She turned, her face red, her eyes watery, and looked at him. “Shouldn’t we…do something? You’re the queen now!”

            Maka sniffled, which felt very un-queenly to him. “Did you not hear what Asura said? ‘ _Grab the princess_ ’. Either he would have me locked up and forcibly married to him –“She shuddered in absolute horror, “- or he would have killed me. There’s nothing I could have done. I have no support, or little of it. Our army is stationed around the country, and there’s no way to get them here in time to take Asura down.”

            “Asura,” he said slowly, fixing on that one piece of information, as it was all his tired brain could handle, “the prince of…Shizumi?”

            Maka nodded once, a sharp dip of her chin. “He was a…suitor. Obviously that didn’t end well. My papa-…” Her eyes welled again, and Soul winced. Stupid. This was not the time for chatting. But he needed to know.

            “What’s the plan?”

            The word ‘plan’ seemed to sort Maka out. She straightened and rolled her shoulders back, her thin lips pressing into a hard line. “We’re going back to my rooms. I can’t flee the castle in this dress,” Maka scuffed at the floor in disgust, “And then we’re leaving. And we’re finding my friend. She’ll help us.”

            Soul opened his mouth to interject, possibly ask about who this so-called ‘ _friend_ ’ was, but Maka was tugging on his hand again, and before he could say anything, she was dragging him down the hall.

            The passage was a maze. Soul had no idea how Maka knew where to go, how she kept it all straight in her head. He would have gotten lost immediately. Thankfully, he wasn’t leading.

            Maka stopped in front of a wall, which looked just like every other wall. But then she pressed her ear to it, and Soul realized, _oh_ , it’s a fake wall. When she deemed it clear, the princess glanced at him and motioned for him to stay. Then she pressed on a certain spot on the wall, and with a _click_ , the wall slid smoothly open, and Maka slipped in. The wall closed behind her.

            Soul stood in the dark for god knows how long, but when Maka reappeared, she was freshly teary-eyed, and a blonde girl watched her go, face solemn. The two looked at each other for a moment, and then Maka raised her hand. The girl copied the motion, and the wall slid close between them.

            Soul knew better than to ask what that was about.

            Maka was dressed in a blue fighting tunic, with a belt at her waist where a sword could go. “We’re waiting for a moment.”

            He didn’t question her. Maka dried her eyes, and took a deep, steadying breath before tying her hair into two pigtails. They were silent as they waited, and then a knock sounded against the hollow, fake wall. Maka waited as a series of other knocks followed, and then opened the wall.

            The blonde girl was back, face ashen. “They’re coming, princess. Here.” She thrusted a parcel Soul couldn’t quite make out into Maka’s hands. Maka nodded, leaned forward, and kissed her cheek gently.

            “I’ll find you again, Bella. Thank you.”

            Shouts sounded from beyond the bedroom, and Bella immediately slid the wall shut and walked quickly away, painting on the mask of a frightened girl – not that she was really faking. There was no goodbye.

            With shaking hands, Maka untied the parcel, and Soul watched as the gleaming edge of a sword shone in the dim lighting. Maka strapped it into her belt and looked up at him, emerald meeting crimson. But the emerald seemed so lifeless, so dead and empty, when before they had sparkled.

            “Let’s go,” Maka murmured, and set off down the hall once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shizumi's army is based off of the Soviet Union's Red Army, and the atrocities, rapes included, that they committed.

            Maka only allowed herself to feel one emotion: irritation, which was directed at Soul.

            She didn’t know what to make of the pianist she had grabbed during the massacre at the ball. Bodies were being shattered and tossed about, blood was painting the floor. It was absolute madness. Maka had no idea how Asura had even gotten men loyal to him inside the castle. He was cunning; that was for sure. Soul had just been there, and she had seen the fear written plainly on his face, and couldn’t leave him there to die or become a prisoner.

            She tried not to think too much about Asura, her _father_ …her country. She focused on the task at hand: finding help. And she would find help in the distant Baltican Forest, where the witch Blair lived.

            Soul kept staring at her. He also kept tripping over the assortment of twigs and rocks all over the ground; they were walking through farm lands, the castle standing firm behind them. Soul was slowing her progress significantly, _and_ muttering about it. Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer, and stopped.

            Soul stumbled to a stop next to her. “What?” he grumbled, his own temper short from the grueling trip.

            “Could you just _stop_?” Maka exclaimed, staring at Soul with wide, incredulous eyes. “Maybe if you looked at the ground instead of at _me_ , you wouldn’t be tripping so much and _slowing us down_.”

            Soul gaped at her as his cheeks colored, mouth full of sharp teeth, and for some reason, made her blood boil. “Me?!” Soul finally sputtered out. “Well, if you quit tramping about so damned fast, maybe I could keep up!”

            Maka got dangerously close to him, eyes centimeters from his, lips pulled back in a sneer. “Stupid! Don’t you realize Asura is going to send people after me soon?”

            Soul looked immediately more wary once she said that, and the tension between them diffused almost immediately. He grew serious, eyes darkening in the growing light. “You’re right.” Maka got the feeling that it was difficult for him to admit this, judging from the tightness to his voice, the set to his shoulders. “But it’s almost morning. We’re exhausted. We’re traumatized. We should find shade and talk.”

            There was a large part of Maka that was tempted to smack his shoulder and keep walking, despite her anger having quickly evaporated. She wanted to keep moving, to become safe, but then she remembered that her people were no longer safe. Maka was sure Asura would have his armies moving in, and the havoc and destruction they would wreck upon the people, her people…

            She needed to sit down and figure things out.

            Maka gestured to a nearby tree, large and leafy enough to protect them from the rising sun, and a hefty trunk to cover them from the nearby road. She would have forsaken the road for sure if she knew how to get to Blair’s without it.

            Soul sat down first, Maka next to him. He sat with his back to the trunk, grinding more dirt into his already stained suit. That was a shame. She thought it had looked nice on him.

            Maka angled herself so she would be able to see anyone approaching on the road. They hadn’t so far, and they had covered miles during the night, although not many. She was still uncomfortable with their proximity to the castle. Soul was right though. Exhausted, there was only so much they could do. And then sun would only make things worse, especially without food or water.

            Soul looked at her, clearly waiting. She cleared her throat. She parted her lips. And then she confessed: “I don’t know what to do once we reach Blair’s.”

            Soul took it better than she thought he would. He blinked his crimson eyes slowly, and then nodded. “Who is Blair?”

            Maka appreciated that he didn’t focus on what she had admitted, and instead he had focused on the unknown. “Blair is a…witch,” she paused, waiting to see if he would comment, but then hurried on, “she was a friend of my mama’s. She’s a bit…eccentric, especially around men. But enough of that. Go to sleep. I’ll wake you if I see anyone on the road.”

            Soul had opened his mouth to comment when she said “especially around men”, but when Maka mentioned sleep, his eyes immediately glazed over. He nodded and, without ceremony, curled up on the ground amongst the tree roots, and promptly fell asleep.

~

            Maka was abruptly woken up in the early evening by Soul’s hand shaking her shoulder and his hissed “Quiet!” in her ear. She tensed, and her eyes flew open.

            Soul was already staring past her, body crouched over hers, eyes on the road. What Maka saw chilled her blood.

            The sounds hit her at the same instance that the sight did: rows upon rows of soldiers, marching down the road in perfect formation. Bile crept up her throat; this was not her army. The armor on the men was dark, red staining it. Asura’s.

            Maka and Soul watched for what felt like ages until the soldiers all passed by. They waited until they could no longer hear the crunch of boots, the shouts of whomever was in charge to the men. Then, as one, they stood and started walking as fast as possible towards the distant forest.

            The image of the men marching was locked in her mind. She knew what would happen. They would loot and raid the villages, perhaps kill the men and rape the women and burn it all down. Who knew what they would do with the children?

            Maka prayed silently for her people. She did not have much hope that her prayers would work or help.

~

            Two days passed, and with them came spurts of Asura’s men. She and Soul didn’t talk much; there was nothing to really say, and they were both on edge. Maka was tired, hungry, and feeling extraordinarily dehydrated. The moment they reached the forest, she would find a stream and drink as much as she could.

            Maka hoped that Blair was paying attention; the witch could sense when people breached her territory. Perhaps she would come save the princess and the pianist. Perhaps she would also bring some roasted meat and vegetables.

            Just the thought made her stomach growl. Maka scowled down at it, but continued to trudge forward. Her sword was weighing her down, but even so, she was faring better than Soul was. He was lagging behind her, head downcast, eyes dull when she did catch them. They had stayed up later and later into the day before crashing since they had seen Asura’s men marching to King’s Cove.

            Maka was running him ragged, and she knew that, but this was better than being captured and killed.

            Close to sunrise, they stumbled into the trees of the Baltican Forest. Within seconds, Maka felt relief shiver through her body. She sank to her knees on the cool, leaf-covered ground, and wept.

            Safe. They were finally, finally safe within the forest. Blair wasn’t far away, and she would have food and water and a bed.

            “We need to find water,” Soul muttered beside her, the first words he had spoken that day. He was right, of course. Maka pushed herself up on trembling arms, and slowly stood. She had never felt so tired, so weak, in her entire life. And it had only been three days since she had left her home.

            Soul looked at her, and reached over and threaded his fingers through hers. “C’mon,” he grunted, and, leaning on each other, they stumbled further into the woods.

            When they heard the babbling of a nearby stream, Maka thought she was hallucinating. Her mouth was so dry, lips cracked, and her tongue felt so fat and heavy and _hot_ in her mouth. The gods wouldn’t be so cruel to taunt her with a hallucinated stream, would they?

            They wouldn’t.

            Within a minute, they had made their way to the stream. Not for the first time, Maka sank to her knees. The stream was quickly moving, and when she thrusted her hand into the water, she discovered that it was _cold_.

            “It’s safe,” she panted.

            Soul lunged forward and planted his face into the water, gulping it down. “Don’t-“ Maka tried to say, but he wasn’t listening. Maka leaned down and sipped some of the cool water, and then sat back and waited. She repeated this process, listening as the water hit her empty stomach and it gurgled. Soul, when he was done, turned onto his side so that his back was to the stream, and fell asleep.

            She could live with that. Maka felt that, in a way, this was owed to him. He was still traveling in his tattered suit, despite Maka telling him to take off at least _some_ of it. Soul was stubborn, though. He had refused, stating, “they’ll be able to spot me like a beacon if I even take off my shirt.”

            She figured that he must be really pale, then.

            Maka decided they could camp out by the stream for the day. With any luck, some type of woodland creature would come to the creek to drink, and she could attempt to kill it. Then, of course, she would have to cook it…maybe it was better to wait for Blair’s help to come, despite how ravenous she was feeling.

            And so she laid back, closing her eyes, and let the babbling brook carry her to sleep.

            It didn’t last long, as Soul threw up the water he had swallowed only a few minutes later.

            Maka bit down gently on her tongue to keep from uttering a stinging “I told you so”. Instead, she kept her eyes closed, letting her body rest and recuperate from what it had just endured. She had never gone so long without food or water. For a brief moment, a surge of bitterness coursed through her veins as Soul wretched a few feet away in the grass: she was a pampered, spoiled princess. What could she do to liberate her people?

            She would need allies. Blair would be one of them, but one witch against hundreds of thousands of soldiers would be practically useless, a waste of life. And one witch with a small princess next to her? Maka would be ripped apart, or worse, sent to be a slave to the brand new king of Baltica, trapped in her palace in Niv, a rat in a gilded cage.

            “Maka,” Soul grunted, and she turned her face to look at him. He was a mess, red-faced and sweaty. “I think I’m going to…rinse off. In the stream. Could you…?” His eyes were darting, his words stiff and awkward. She got what he was putting down. Warily, Maka dragged her exhausted body off the ground and stumbled about twenty feet away before slumping behind a tree.

            She heard a cautious splash, followed by a hiss at the touch of the cold water, and then very little after that. Her eyes drooped, and her lips parted in a snore. Princess – now Queen, really – Maka fell asleep propped against a tree like it was the most comfortable bed in Baltica.

~

            A startled, very high-pitched scream awoke her. Although Maka’s wrecked body sorely protested, she leaped up, pulling her sword out of its scabbard and running out from behind the tree. She wasn’t sure what to do once she saw what Soul had screamed about.

            Blair the witch was standing by the stream with a very naked Soul inches from her very…protruding breasts. She was cooing, her purple hair glinting in the sun as she fawned over Soul, who was ogling the melons in front of his nose. “I know you’re friendly! Do you want to play with me, nya? Huh? Do ya?” Blair mewled, giggling as Soul’s face remained in close proximity to her breasts.

            Rage flushed through her veins. Maka wasn’t sure why, but the stupid, dopey look on Soul’s face absolutely outraged her. Fuming, she reached down and undid her shoe, before throwing it hard into his face. It struck him and he went down into the stream, even as a trickle of blood began to flood down from his nose. “Maka! What the hell was that for?! Ouch!”

            Blair grinned and pivoted to face her. “Maka! So good to see you, nya,” the cat witch purred, rushing over and encircling the smaller girl in a tight embrace. Maka choked as the air was squeezed out of her lungs. She noticed that she, too, was uncomfortably close to Blair’s bosom, and so she had to admit it – they were nice.

            “B-Blair,” Maka whimpered, tapping on the witch’s bare shoulder. She relented, letting the princess breathe. Maka used her breath accordingly, and pulled back from the hug, her emerald eyes meeting Blair’s with an intensity the witch had not seen before. “Do you know?”

            Soul was still sputtering in the water, complaining about his nose and how he was naked and how it was _totally uncool_ that Maka had hit him with her shoe like that. But it was all background noise; all that existed in that moment was Maka, her eyes steady on Blair’s, and the shaking that told Maka all she needed to know.

            “Baltica has been taken over,” Blair finally whispered, her head dipping lowly. “There wasn’t much I could do. I tried to slow their process as much as I could…I’ve hidden some of the families here within the forest. Asura has ignored me for now, but he definitely knows of my presence. His army has avoided coming near the trees.”

            It was a sobering moment. Blair was rarely so serious – she was as silly as she was powerful. Her magic could reach all the way to the edge of the forest. If a soldier wandered inside the trees, he would be at her mercy. “What have they…done to my people?”

            Blair’s face hardened even as her lip trembled. It told Maka everything she needed to know. She took in a deep, trembling breath. “We should talk about this at my home. Get some food in you.”

            Maka nodded in agreement, her thin frame just about shaking from exhaustion, worry and hunger. She would be eternally grateful for Blair. Not only had the cat witch given her closure and comfort after the murder of her mother, she was taking in the essential refugee now. Maka could have cried.

            Blair whirled around to face Soul, her cheeks warmed and her lips spread in an almost lecherous grin. He was only half-dressed, and his blood-red eyes widened when he noticed the attention he was receiving. Blair tapped her chin. “C’mon now, handsome, I can warm you up as soooooooonnn as we get to my house, nya,” Blair purred, a cat-like grin curling her lips.

            Maka was still grateful to her friend. But that gratefulness was balancing on a razor-thin border with anger.

~

            Everything seemed to relax inside of Blair’s home, which was oddly shaped into a pumpkin. Maka was used to it, having been here before – Soul had gaped - and was quite comfortable with all of Blair’s oddities. Except for her apparent hunger for Soul. That was…difficult to watch.

            But Maka put up with it, although she barely had spared Soul a glance since leaving the stream. Every time she caught a glimpse of his face, she thought of her papa cheating, and any thought about her papa currently meant heartache. So it was easier to not look at Soul at all.

            Both Maka and Soul scarfed down a pot of stew Blair had on her stove. It had fish in it, which Maka hated, but she was too hungry to really turn it down. And once her belly was full, sleep called for her. Soul was already asleep on the orange couch he had sat down on. Blair smiled at Maka, and led her to a small bedroom, and left her.

            Maka strongly wished there wasn’t a mirror, but there it was, placed in the center of the dresser in front of the bed. Her eyes couldn’t stay away. Maka’s ash-blonde hair was stringy and snarled, and definitely something she would work on after a bath. _Oooh, a bath_ … _but no_ , Maka thought, what she needed right now was sleep. Her eyes haunted her the most in her tanned, gaunt face. Shadows swirled within her eyes that had not been there before. Shadows that whispered of pain and heartache. Shadows that, she feared, would leak into her brain and corrupt all that was good there.

            But those were thoughts for later. So Maka curled up onto the achingly comfortable bed, arching her back again and again until she could lay flay without pain coursing through her body. She fell into a deep sleep, and didn’t wake once through the night, even though those thoughts invaded her dreams.

~

            Maka woke up to a warmth shifting across her stomach. That warmth was also vibrating. Maka peeked an eye open to notice a small cat with a witch’s hat placed upon her head on her stomach. “G’morning, Blair,” she whispered, stretching her limbs out slowly.

            “Morning, Maka. You ready to get up?” The cat mewed and stretched daintily. At Maka’s nod, the cat jumped off of Maka and onto the floor, and nodded at the dresser. A clean pair of clothes was folded up gently on top, and relief flooded Maka’s body. “Take a bath, okay, nya? You stink.” With that, she trotted out of the room, tail high in the air.

            Maka knew that. She couldn’t really forget it herself. Maka pushed her aching body off of the bed and took some time to stretch out every muscle she could, before padding into the small connected bathroom. She ran a hot bath, soaked for a half hour, before wrapping a towel around herself and walking back to her own room. She pulled on a clean pair of underthings, a loose blouse and comfortable pants. With that being done, Maka felt ready to face the world again.

            Blair was in the dining room, sitting on the table with a silent, stony Soul across from her. He was refusing to look the cat in the eye, even as she purred and curled around herself flirtatiously. Maka never thought she had seen anything more ridiculous. She cleared her throat and Soul leapt up from his seat, expression one of resolute panic. “I- uh, Mak- Princess – no, Queen…” Suddenly, it dawned upon him that Maka was the same girl he had trudged across Baltica with, and he slumped back down in his seat and glared at the table.

            His manners were definitely lacking, but Maka was willing to put that in the past. “Good morning,” she stated cheerfully as she took a seat next to Soul, who shifted uncomfortably. It stung, but she ignored it. Her cheerful mood quickly evaporated though, as she contemplated her situation. Her country’s situation.

            “Blair, what’s the news?”

            The little cat paused, one paw halfway to her mouth, tongue already stuck out. Blair shifted, and looked at Maka, a serious glint to her eyes. “He’s burning any village that claims to be loyal to you. He might be hoping to find you in one of them.”

            Maka closed her eyes. “And…the villagers?”

            Blair’s tone was solemn, and deeply sad. “He’s killing the men. The women…”

            She didn’t have to say anymore. Maka held up her hand. She knew what would happen – she had studied warfare since she was a child, and armies filled with spirited men…they would not all rape and kill, she knew that. But Shizumi was a backwards country, and regarded as barbaric by both Baltica and Dains. If the Kishins had been forced out of power…well, things could have been different. Instead, it seemed that they were extending their reign.

            “The children?”

            “Killed or taken.”

            So that’s how it was going to be. Asura would ensure a brutal dictatorship like that of his mother and father’s. It was hard to think about, to even imagine. But in order to fight back, Maka needed to know. She took a deep breath. She didn’t even want to know what Blair meant when she said that the children were being taken. “Do you know of any…resistance?”

            Blair paused. Once again, it was like Soul didn’t exist. He was part of the background to the conversation, silent, observing the two as they talked. “I do. I’ve known of this rebel town for a long time. In fact, I helped ward it.”

            Maka’s eyebrows rose. “Ward it?”

            Blair nodded, ducking her head to lick her chest. “It cannot be entered unless you have permission from me, or one of the two rebel leaders.”

            Gears spun inside Maka’s head. “And what do you mean by…rebel?”

            Blair’s eyes met Maka’s. “As in, against the totalitarian regime in Shizumi.”

            Soul cleared his throat and leaned forward, hands placed firmly on the table. “I hate to interrupt this, but have…have you heard anything about what’s going on in Niv?”

            Maka normally would have considered his interruption rude, but there was a wild, desperate tone to Soul’s voice, and she suddenly remembered that he had a family. He had people to go home to. Maka wondered, horrified, if she had done the right thing by taking Soul out of the city. Yet she wasn’t sure the pianist would have made it out of the ballroom without her.

            Blair turned to face Soul, although she looked deflated, different from how she normally looked at him. “No. I haven’t heard much about what’s going on in Niv…my informants are…MIA,” the cat said, voice slow and cautious. “I know that the first troops have reached it, though.”

            Soul leaned back into his seat, swearing softly. “What do we do?”

            “We get help. We fight,” the blonde princess whispered softly, looking over at Soul, and then at Blair. No one said anything. “So tell me about this rebel town.”

            Blair’s eyes glinted as she straightened. “Have you ever heard of a town called Black Fort?”


End file.
